


A fool to believe

by elareine



Series: foolish, perhaps [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Epistolary, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, but no details given, mention of serious injury, the lightest of angst, though they barely feature here tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: When Jason Todd is tired, frustrated, angry, happy - in short, when he feels any emotion at all -, he writes a letter. Here are six letters he never sent.





	A fool to believe

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read "Just a fool for you", this won't make sense. 
> 
> Because Body_Inspector mentioned Jason’s POV and my brain started going there without my input. There will be at least one more installment in this series that mostly deals with Bruce’s side of the story.

_A letter that was torn up by the writer in disgust at himself:_

~~Dearest~~ Dear Tim,

I know what I’ve done will be a shock to you. I know you will be angry. ~~So am I.~~ As I write this, I am in London, waiting to be shipped out to France, maybe Spain.

However, what could you expect if your father tells me that your family will never accept ~~me~~ us and that we’re over? Of course you choose them. ~~Why wouldn’t you?~~ I understand. But you could’ve at least told me yourself, not through your father! He’s always looked down on me. I could tell he was utterly convinced he was saving you.

I expected better from you. I thought you would at least tell me yourself. Why didn’t you? I don’t understand.

Do you even remember what you told me? How it didn’t matter that I don’t have a family anymore, because we would make our own? Ha.

Was I just a diversion? An amusement because you were bored? ~~Do you not love me?~~

~~Why? I just don’t understand~~

~~Damn it~~

 

_A letter that was replaced by a terse note of acknowledgement:_

Tim,

I see that I have my answer then. I was wondering - hoping, even - if it hadn’t just been a misunderstanding, your father testing me, perhaps, that somehow, you still ~~loved~~ wanted me. But no.

“It is obvious that our visions for the future do not match.”

What vision was that, then? A vision where I am somehow highborn, with rank and income enough to impress your family? Because it can’t be the future we have been talking about, with us together, come what may, for better or worse, in sickness and health, or you wouldn’t have had your father deliver the notice and only write me yourself weeks later.

Could you at least explain yourself? Tell me what made you change your mind? Was it really just the pressure of potentially losing your family? ~~What did I do wrong? I love~~ ~~loved you so much; why wasn’t that enough?~~

 

_A letter that Roy found and threw away because it wasn’t legible:_

How is it that I still find myself talking to you in my mind? I want to tell you about the people I met here. About General Prince, who is the most amazing fighter I have ever seen and the best person, too.

It wasn’t her fault. Sometimes, the enemy is just too strong.

I made friends, you know. I talk to them. I’m not alone but for you anymore. One of them carried me out of that hell.

And still, I keep thinking I hear your laugh. Or, more likely here, your sarcastic comments. You would have had that coward cowing at his knees…

I’m not making any sense, I know. They fixed me up, we thought, but fever is setting in. My hands are shaking. I just wanted to say… I miss you very much.

Maybe your father was right. You would have been a widower within a year.

 

_A letter that was thrown into the fire, unnoticed by cheering sailors:_

Dear Mister Drake Wayne,

I would hereby like to inform you that I have just received my commission as an officer. I am navy, now. The General saw how I fought and gave me an opportunity to transfer and buy my commission. I must confess to being very pleased. Not only does this mean a much better income and chance to advance, but I have also always longed to see more of the world than an infantry soldier could.

My new rank also means that I was informed about your and your family’s activities for the Crown, by the way. ~~I cannot escape you, it seems.~~ So there is no need to keep that a secret anymore.

I suppose you wonder why I am writing to you, three years after we’ve broken our engagement. I must admit that there is some curiosity still lingering after that event, that I would hereby seek to satisfy.

Back then, you spoke of different visions for the future. My lower social status, in particular, was objectionable, as you insinuated. What do you think now? Would I fulfil your standards? Or would my birth still speak against me? ~~Am I good enough now?~~

I am glad to inform you that others do not find me as repulsive. ~~Now, if only I could stop comparing everyone to you and find them wanting.~~ Hopefully, I will find myself married soon enough, so that we both may be spared any embarrassment when I return to Gotham eventually, as I am sure you have found another long ago. ~~Is it the oldest Kent boy? Some wealthy stranger, perhaps, sweeping you off your feet, giving you everything I never could~~

 

_A letter that would have arrived in Gotham after the writer did, anyway:_

Dear Tim,

How are you? I’m doing well, thank you for never asking. It’s “Captain” now. Captured two ships, made money, made the General proud. I was even able to pay her back.

So now it’s back to England for us. I will not leave the navy - where would I go? - but we have accumulated many days of leave, and Roy Harper wants to go to his best friend’s wedding. That’s Sir Roy Harper, now, in case you are wondering, and that best friend is your brother. Small world, huh? He wants me to come along, and I have no excuse to give.

I suppose I should have known ~~that I couldn’t avoid Gotham forever~~ that this day would come.

You told me about Dick and Barbara Gordon. I remember the exasperation in your voice when you spoke of his puppy love and their inability to see how true it ran. There will be no way to avoid seeing each other at this wedding.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I miss you - I can admit that now - but I don’t want to see you. ~~What if you are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? What if six years did nothing but make me love you more?~~

What am I saying? We both know that my pride and temper will prevail once I see you.

Hopefully, our meeting will show me that I have been holding on to a phantom all this time. My idea of you, that idealized memory tainted by nostalgia for peacetime, cannot possibly compare to reality.

 

_A letter that the writer left on his writing desk, but that Tisiphone and Lachesis hid under Tim’s pillow for him to find upon waking:_

Dearest Tim,

Do you know how many times over the last seven years I have found myself in this exact position? Sitting at my desk, thinking of you, writing a letter that you will never read… Yet today I write with the hope that it will be the last time, for tomorrow, I will stand in front of God and vow to be with you for the rest of our lives.

I do not kid myself that we will never be apart. You have your work, and I have mine. We are both quite stubborn about it, too, which I think we have adequately proved in this lifetime. But I swear to you that I will not let words go unspoken anymore. Everything I write here, I have told you or will tell you, if need be, again and again. I will not see us hurt for lack of communication again.

When I returned to Gotham, I was so angry to see you behaving as if nothing had happened. You introduced me to eligible bachelors - it seems so ridiculous now. What in God’s name ever possessed us to do such a thing?

Still, I knew you better than we both remembered, and I couldn’t understand how you could look so sad even as you were smiling and surrounded by your family. Yet something in me recognized that feeling and echoed it. It’s a loneliness that’s not borne out of a lack of friends or family, but out of want for a heart that calls to your own.

There is, simply put, no one else I could ever imagine spending my life with.

I know what marriage means. I know it means more than just declarations of love and long walks together; that there will be hard times. I swear to love you even when you are in a foul mood or withdrawn; when we fight again and again over the small and big things; when one of us has to leave for long periods of time, and we don’t know when we will see each other again; when one of us wishes the other would just go away for need of some quiet. I will even endure weekly dinners with your family. Yes, even Damian. There, that is a proper declaration of love, is it not?

I started writing this as a way to prepare for my vows tomorrow. Now that I think about it, though, I am reconsidering my strategy. As much as you’ve always secretly appreciated my letters (and you needn’t lie about that - Lachesis told me), public displays of affection still make you blush.

Well. With the notable exception of the day I proposed a second time, of course. You always know just what I need. 

Still. Perhaps you would not appreciate it if I poured out my heart in front of everyone. I think I will keep my vows to the most crucial point, the one thing you need to know:

I love you.

Yours,

Jason


End file.
